Of The Platonic Sort
by DandelionQuil
Summary: They can't remember every time they've said those words. Although, they do remember their first time as well as several other times. But the first time ever wasn't romantic. It happened before they realized they were head over heels for the other. It's clear and pleasant like a melody and plays in their minds like a bell that can't be unrung.


**Disclaimer:- Harry Potter and all its characters belong to JKR and one runs out of ways to say this**

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Lily believes he said it first but James firmly denies it. He says he clearly remembers them sitting in the courtyard, sheltered by the giant tree with their schoolbags open and its belongings lain haphazardly in front of them.

It's towards the end of Sixth Year. He remembers because the Quidditch league was drawings to a close and his bets with Sirius were baring fruits, contrary to his liking. So, in an effort to avoid his best mate for the time being, he detours after class to the lake but instead meets Lily.

She seems harried. The contents of her bags seem to be spilling out and the weight of it makes her slouch forward. But she indomitably argues she doesn't need his help, growing more frustrated when he persists. She calls him a git but she does indeed concede, concealing a small smile.

Soon they're sitting under leafy roof, taking apart the books in her bags as Lily separated the stacks of parchment she has to sort through. Prefect duties, he comments, seem like a bore. She half-heartedly attempts to protest.

Brushing back those locks of dark red hovering over her eyes, she purses her lips and fidgets, unable to keep still. Accustomed to the sight, James brings his attention back to the work he's given. He pulls out all the point-docking forms and lays them out month-wise.

While James continues working, Lily feebly, distractedly apologizes for including him into this mess. She claims she generally doesn't leave this much work pending and shoots him a grateful nod. A sort of grimace marks her face but James suspects it was a weak attempt at a smile.

He puffs out of his chest and replied in the most courteous and pretentious tone he can muster. He calls it a gentleman's honour to help a lady in need. He doesn't expect much but he elicits the reluctant chuckle out of her.

A moment's distraction before she dutifully returns to her work and he to his. He reads the names on the detention cards and when he comes across those names familiar to him, he stops and remembers some fact or story about them that he interestedly tells Lily about. She feigns being distraught but she concentrates her attention on his stories.

As random as they may be, there's something about the way he speaks that grips her focus. She's intrigued and the stories amuse her.

Neither stops working but from then on, it moves slower. It takes a few hours for them to file out the forms and when they're done, Lily has bloodshot eyes and drooping eyelids. Although, she stubbornly refuses to succumb to sleep, she still finds herself walking sluggishly, yawning wildly and talking softly.

James picks up after her. He packs her bag and carries it back to Gryffindor Tower, all the while supporting the prefect. They make little conversation on the way, most of which James won't remember. But what he does remember is her leaning her head on his shoulder and grinning up at him as she speaks, "You're pretty fantastic, y'know?"

He makes some quip about being confident of the fact and she snorts, "Thank you, Potter! You have this lady's gratitude. Good Merlin, I'm so sorry for keeping you for five hours. Hmm… Have I told you that I love you because I really do? I love you, Potter. You're a godsend."

He pathetically hides his shock and tries covering the flushed, pink patches that redden his ears by jesting about how she might regret her words. She laughs. It's like melody to his ears, one that he's heard innumerable times but never tires of.

The rest of the evening is duller. They part ways in the common room. While she goes to her dormitory to take a nap, he finds Sirius lounging on the couch with some of the Gryffindor team and joins them.

—-

In actuality, it is Lily who said it first. She recalls it clearly enough but she insists it was him. Sometime during early Seventh Year, she reminds him. She tells him that they ran into each other on the Fourth Floor, him worked up and her annoyed by the ache beginning to grow from where their heads clashed.

He doesn't acknowledge the pain. With his mind elsewhere, he helps her to feet, muttering a lax apology and begins to continue on his way but she trails after him, calling his name but he doesn't pay her attention. He stalks, his hands shoved in his pocket, glasses crookedly sitting on his nose and his un-tucked shirt flurrying behind him.

It's the fourth time she calls his name that he jerks to a stop, tilts his head and turns around to look at her. Boyish innocent etched on his face, he quirks an inquisitive eyebrow and he taps his foot impatiently. She peers at him curiously and ask what's bothering him. But all he does is run a hand through his hair and attempt to change the subject. He makes unenthusiastic conversation, intent on boring her into leaving him alone but she's as obstinate as him or perhaps more. She's persistent and he finally surrenders, telling her about illicit plans of sneaking into the Hufflepuff practive.

She calls it dishonest with faux scorn. And before he knows, she has tricked him into inviting her into coming along with him. He isn't the least bit displeased but he feigns it. She isn't convinced by the act and he knows it.

They march through the corridors, engaged in conversation or moving in utter silence while he mutters under his breath. She conjures an invisible umbrella when they enter the raining grounds and protects the both of them from the cold, forceful drops that bounce of her shield.

When they move closer to the pitch, James pulls her aside and into the stands. She recalls making some quip about him throwing the art of subtlety out of the window of a running train. He rolls his eyes in response and they began their scouting.

Occasionally, she passes a comment or two to break the ice but he tersely watches the practice. Halfway through, however, he can't ignore the comments. He finds himself chortling and enjoying the lame puns and strange jokes. Soon enough, he's contributing with his share.

Time passes by in a blur after that. An hour's up, the team starts to file out. James and Lily follow at a slower pace. The wise decision might be to wait until the team's gone but James's eagerly waiting to lead her to the kitchen. He's taken her challenge and he refutes her declaration that she makes a better scrambled egg than he does.

He tugs at her wrist and she follows him, announcing he would never beat her. It's only till they're within earshot that Lily makes a joke about the Hufflepuff team's inability to stay atop their brooms for longer than five minutes that they are discovered by the captain of the aforementioned team.

Michaels, an egotistical fellow with a particular distaste for the Gryffindor Captain, rudely derides the Gryffindor team. He equates their talent to maintain the quaffle to the balance of a hippogriff on skates. Beating James, Lily replies. This time she quite cleverly insults Michaels so it takes him a minute to figure it out.

Somehow their words are twisted. Michaels agrees to a bet with James's conditions. But he also suggests another reason for them to have been out on the pitch. They part ways with Michaels believing he got the better of them. And like wildfire, the rumour that Evans is involved with Potter begins to circulate.

James or Lily, alternatively, postpone their challenge and return to Gryffindor Tower. They laugh at their juvenility and silly as it may sound, the juvenility makes for a very fun evening. An evening ended in front of the fireplace with the two of them still chortling like loons and indulging in bad jokes.

James finds that her sense of humour quite matches his own. He compliments it, deeply impressed, "Sly minx, aren't ya, Evans? Blimey, I never predicted this. Well done, Lily. I love you. I could spend every minute from now on with you."

He's still laughing when she feels her cheeks heat up and feels the heat it radiates when she touches it with the back of her palm. But it doesn't stop her from grinning madly at him.

The conversation from that evening sticks with her. And when they say 'I love you' almost a year later, it plays in the back of her mind.

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**A/N:- It was a prompt someone sent on tumblr and I got carried away. Anyhow, thanks for reading and please review because, y'know, they're better than fudge brownies.**


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